Restaurants of Buford Highway: A Roll Call

Lyrics

The roll call begins at sundown.
The asphalt breathes heat.
The signs light up, one by one.
A litany in five parts.
First, Hae Woon Dae.
Friday, seven o'clock.
The smoke is a promise of charcoal.
Marinated beef, short ribs on a tabletop grill you cook yourself.
A trust exercise.
The name is on the sign.
The owner's name is not in the county records after 2010.
But the smoke, the smoke remembers.
Hae Woon Dae for the fire.
Lee's Bakery for the bread.
Pho Dai Loi for the bone broth, simmered till the ghosts talk.
Taqueria del Sol, for the turnip greens.
Crawfish Shack for the boil, when the season is right.
This is the table. The highway is the table.
Then, Lee's.
Eleven in the morning.
The door chime, a little bell.
The warm yeast smell of French bread, baked for the banh mi.
A man named Lee, maybe. The paper just says Lee.
A few doors down, Pho Dai Loi.
The broth is a secret told overnight.
A cook in 2015 asked for more napkins.
That's all we know of him. That's enough.
Hae Woon Dae for the fire.
Lee's Bakery for the bread.
Pho Dai Loi for the bone broth, simmered till the ghosts talk.
Taqueria del Sol, for the turnip greens.
Crawfish Shack for the boil, when the season is right.
This is the table. The highway is the table.
Eddie Hernandez put his name on Taqueria del Sol. That's something.
But the Crawfish Shack, it changes hands.
The seasons change.
The names on the LLC filings are just holding companies.
But the corn is sweet. The sausage is spicy.
The work is done by hands we will never know.
And we are fed.
We are fed.
Hae Woon Dae.
Lee's Bakery.
Pho Dai Loi.
The table is set.
The highway is long.
The roll call is never finished.